


he is in my shaving mirror, he is in my coffee cup

by manhattans_here



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gays bein gays, M/M, anyways stan bonnie and clyde, bear with me, bonnie and clyde au, inspired by my favorite scene from that movie, just fluff, that i wrote after pulling an all nighter, u know the one that one bonnie and clyde movie, uhhh i dont remember when it came out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattans_here/pseuds/manhattans_here
Summary: it wasn’t exactly a peaceful life they led, certainly not what race had planned for himself, but it was theirs.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	he is in my shaving mirror, he is in my coffee cup

Gunshots.

That was what Race was awakened by, just like he was a few nights ago and many times before. Gunshots drilling through his ears, disturbing the rare moment of peace he’d finally gotten. He and Albert had rushed to the car and barely managed to escape, Albert nearly crashing into a fence as they drove away from the old house. The police eventually lost track of them and they’d parked their car in the middle of a field, falling asleep there. It was risky, but it’s not like they could go looking for a place to stay that late at night, and with the given circumstances.

It wasn’t exactly a peaceful life they led, certainly not what Race had planned for himself, but it was theirs.

That’s what he thought as they lay down on the ground, his head on Albert’s lap as he scribbled the words into a notebook that was barely being held together anymore. The sun had started to rise, birds were twittering and the grass was dewy. Morning had come.

“What’re you writing?” Albert asked. His hands were running through the other’s curls. Despite the cold breeze his shirt was unbuttoned, leaving only his undershirt to warm him up and his suspenders were hanging from his waist.

“A poem.” Race hummed, his full attention pinned on the words flowing out on the paper. As a child, he wanted to write songs. He wanted to see himself up on the silver screen, indulge in every luxury the human mind could come up with, yet somehow, the simplicity of the rhythm of the poet as he laid in Albert’s arms kept him satisfied.

“A poem, eh?” Albert smiled. He always enjoyed hearing what Race came up with; it grounded him, but at the same time helped him escape. “Let me see.” He leaned forward to take a look, but Race jerked the notebook away from him.

“Not yet, it isn’t finished.” He pressed the notebook against his chest, letting his pencil fall down on the grass. “It’s about you and me. Might send it to the paper.”

“Send it to the paper- Don’t you think you’ve messed with them enough?” Albert chuckled, before he wrapped his arms around Race’s torso, pulling him up against his chest. “You know what you’re doing, Racer?”

“What am I doing, Albie?” He tilted his head, smiling at him sweetly.

“You’re telling our story.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Race’s head. “You’re writing us down in ink, this is how they’ll remember us.”

“Al, our mugs are plastered all over the place. People want us dead.” Race smirked. “I don’t think we’ll be remembered for a bunch of poems.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s the pretty part, isn’t it?” Albert laughed, squeezing his arms around the blonde. “This way they get to know how much I loved you.”

“You almost got me killed last night but go on.” Race said, getting back to his poem and trusting that Albert wouldn’t look.

“You’d get killed either way, dumbass.” Albert rolled his eyes, reaching for his lover’s hand and locking their fingers together. “Besides, I wouldn’t ever hurt you. You know I look out for you.”

“Hmm, I know.” Race smiled as he stared at their intertwined fingers. “What would I do without you, Albie?”

“Have a _normal life_ , possibly.” Albert scoffed, mostly in expense of himself. “I bet you’d be up on the big screen, like you wanted. You’d settle down with someone nice, probably, maybe you’d have a kid.” He sighed, looking down at the blonde. “Screwed you up bad enough, didn’t I?”

“Hey, no. Look at me, Albie.” Race sat on his knees, cradling Albert’s face in his hands. “I only care that I’m here with you. No matter how messy it gets, alright?” Albert nodded at him, looking unconvinced. Race just sighed. “I don’t need any luxuries if I‘ve got you. I don’t need a ‘normal life’. Would I want to have this with you if I could, of course I would, but what we have?” He chuckled and leaned in, planting a kiss on Albert’s forehead. “I wouldn’t trade that for all the red carpets in the world.”

Albert placed a hand on Race’s wrist, pulling him closer until their lips met, a soft kiss being exchanged between them. “I love you, Tony.”

“I love you too, Al.” Race smiled. He laughed as the redhead pulled them both into the ground, lying on their backs, a view of the sky ahead. “You know, eventually, they’ll get us both.” Albert sighed.

“When they do, will you be up there with me?”

“I’ll always be with you.”


End file.
